Fire in the Soul
by Tgirl3
Summary: How will the staff react when one of their own is the victim of a domestic terrorist attack? Harm/Mac (eventually) UPDATED - NEW CHAPTER!
1. The Will of Evil Men

AN #1: This story takes place during the current season, while Mac is serving onboard the Seahawk as Singer's replacement. It will obviously become an AU story in time..  
  
AN #2This is my first "published" fanfiction, as well as my first JAG story. Any feedback will be welcomed. Please note that the multiple chapters of this story will discuss a domestic terror attack and the bad guys are radical Islamists - if you are sensitive to such material, then this tale will not be your cup of tea. You have been warned..  
  
Update note: When I began this story, it was before a commercial jet had been targeted by a shoulder-launched rockets. The eerie coincidence is a little unnerving...My intent was only to create a possible scenario for our JAG characters to deal with. If you think the connection between reality and fiction is too close for comfort, skip my story, please.  
  
Norfolk, Virginia 1500 EST  
  
As he lined up his target in the sights of the weapon, he grinned at the irony of the event about to happen. An American-made weapon was about to cause massive damage to an American war ship. Perhaps this would serve as proof to Mahmood that Allah did have a sense of humor. . . .  
  
Wafa al Muhammed, a.k.a. Giovanni Casselli, was often eyed suspiciously by his other al Qaeda contact because of the extent of time he had spent in the land of the Great Satan. In turn, Muhammed was contemptuous of his more provincial cohort. Mahmood lacked a certain sophistication and intellectual understanding that Wafa had gained from years living outside the Middle East. His jokes were often misunderstood and his witticisms were greeted by a flat stare. But Mahmood was as committed as he was in the jihad against America. That devotion to the destruction of the United States bonded them more closely than other more superficial differences could divide them.  
  
The two had worked closely to complete their mission, and a spectacular event of destruction and grief promised to be the end result. Soon his target would be within range, while he would be able to safely disappear from the scene to await his next opportunity.  
  
He shifted the Shoulder-Launched Multipurpose Assault Weapon (SMAW) slightly. It was not heavy - the portable rocket launcher only weighed 30 pounds in ready-to-fire mode. As a weapons expert for the United Nations in his role as Giovanni Casselli, Wafa had long known this weapon would be ideal for tactical strikes on any number of US targets. The weapon had been used in the evil attack the Americans called "Desert Storm;" it had not been difficult to "liberate" a few launchers and rockets.  
  
The launcher had a range of 500 meters on any target larger than a tank - and the bridge of the USS Seahawk as it came into the port at Norfolk was certainly larger than a tank. As soon as the rocket hit, he could be in his car and driving away in under 2 minutes. A suicide bomber could bring death only once, with plans like this, he could do many times over.  
  
Wafa grinned again as the target came within range and he squeezed the trigger. "Insh' Allah." he whispered as he watched a fireball fill the horizon.  
  
To be continued.. 


	2. In the Darkness Before the Dawn

Author note: Character's internal thoughts appear between // //  
  
Northeast DC near Union Station 0500 EST The morning of . . .  
  
The man turned restlessly in his bed, the expression on his face indicating that he was deep in REM sleep and *not* having a good dream. If anyone had been in the room to observe Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., Navy JAG lawyer and sometime-Tomcat pilot, they would have correctly guessed that he was in the grip of an intense nightmare.  
  
Suddenly, he gave a strangled yell and bolted up-right, physically forcing himself into consciousness. Harm took a moment to calm himself, noting with a pilot's detachment that his heart was racing, he was panting and sweating as if he had just finished a 7-minute mile, and the sheets on his bed were undone and tangled around his legs and waist.  
  
He steadied his breathing and padded over the bathroom. He splashed lukewarm water over his face and grimaced at the tired, red-eyed reflection that looked back at him.  
  
//Get a grip, Rabb. It's only a dream.//  
  
Harm closed his eyes and the images from his nightmare immediately assailed him. His eyes snapped back open and he muttered aloud, "Yeah, a dream you've had three nights in a row."  
  
He walked back into the bedroom and looked at the clock on the nightstand; 5:10 AM. He knew it would be a lost cause to try and go back to sleep for another hour. Permitting himself a sigh of frustration, Harm grabbed a clean pair of boxers from a dresser drawer and headed back to the bathroom for quick shower. It would clear some cobwebs before his morning run.  
  
USS Seahawk The western Atlantic Ocean 0500 EST The morning of . . .  
  
Lieutenant Colonel Sarah McKenzie found herself wide-awake, staring at the bottom of Petty Officer Coates' bunk for the third morning in a row.  
  
Her internal clock told her it she had awoken at the same exact time she had the two previous mornings. With that realization, the reasonable Marine gave up her struggle to right off the images she had seen in her sleep as "just a silly dream." It was time to acknowledge that this was one more "incident," one that would drive her logical co-workers and commanding officer back at JAG, crazy.  
  
She was having another vision. 


	3. A Helping Hand Ignored

AN: Reminder, characters' thoughts appear between // //.  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA 0730 EST  
  
It was too early to be in the office, but Harm had no better place to be. Since he couldn't sleep, he figured he might as well be productive and get some work done.  
  
As he strode through the silent bullpen to the coffee room, he was surprised to find Commander Sturgis Turner already putting on a pot to brew.  
  
"Sturgis, what are you doing here at this hour?"  
  
The former submariner turned around and raised an eyebrow at his friend. "What am I doing here? I could ask you the same question, Harm. You've never been what is known as a morning person," he teased. "I seem to recall a certain plebe getting more than one demerit for oversleeping and missing class."  
  
The days the two of them had spent at the Naval Academy usually seemed like long ago, but certain memories made their time as undergraduates at the Academy come back with amazing clarity.  
  
"You've got a memory like an elephant, Sturgis, but I think you're exaggerating a little. It was only 3 demerits, and it happened during Second Year, when I was battling a case of undiagnosed mononucleosis," replied Harm "And I hardly think an incident that was--"  
  
He broke off at the sight of the grin creeping over the face of his long- time friend.  
  
"Sturgis, someday---"  
  
"Yea, Harm, someday," he agreed, "but not today. You'll have to get up a lot earlier if you want to get one up on me."  
  
Harm just shook his head and reached into a cabinet for a mug.  
  
"Seriously, Harm, why are you here so early?" Sturgis asked. "I've got to be in court today, but I didn't think you had anything urgent on your plate. Did something happen?"  
  
"No," Harm shook his head. "I woke up, couldn't get back to sleep, and so I figured I might as well come and get some work done while there's peace and quiet to be had."  
  
Sturgis Turner took a closer look at his friend and co-worker. Rabb's uniform was in perfect order, he was clean-shaven, but something still seemed . . . off. Then he noticed the pale circles like bruises under Harm's eyes; they looked like more than one night of not sleeping.  
  
He took Harm's mug and poured fresh coffee into it. "Anything in particular keeping you up, buddy?"  
  
"Not really," was the reply. Harm hesitated, were the dreams worth mentioning to anyone?  
  
Sturgis heard the pause in the other lawyer's voice and pressed him a little, "You're not sick, are you, Harm?"  
  
"No, Sturgis, I'm not sick. I've just . . . been . . . having some, uh, rather intense dreams."  
  
"Nightmares?"  
  
"I guess you could call them that," came the reluctant answer.  
  
"What about?"  
  
Now frustration began to make its way into Harm's voice, "I'm not sure. They don't make any sense at all. There's nothing happening, I just keep seeing the same disturbing images over and over again."  
  
"You want to talk about it?" Sturgis had a good idea what his friend's answer would be, but he wanted to ask anyway.  
  
"No, thanks. It's not a big deal," Harm smiled. "Anyway, I'm sure your coffee will scatter any memory I've got left. Your coffee is almost as bad as Mac's."  
  
"Speaking of Mac," the black lawyer accepted the change of subject without comment, "When is the Seahawk coming into port? Isn't it sometime this week?"  
  
"It's today actually," Harm informed him. "She's due into Norfolk at 1400."  
  
"I'll be glad to have her back in the office," said Sturgis, "I have two cases I'd love to hand over to her right away."  
  
He picked up the bagel off the counter and started walking back towards his office, and made one last comment to Rabb, unable to resist the urge.  
  
"You'll be glad to have her back, too, won't you?"  
  
"Yeah," Harm replied absently, "I've missed her, too. Things aren't the same when she's away."  
  
"I know what you mean, buddy, you seem off your game when you don't have your regular sparring partner around."  
  
"Sturgis!" Harm warned, "You better watch your step, I will have the last laugh today!"  
  
"In your dreams, Harm," the dark-skinned commander chuckled as he disappeared into his office, "only in your dreams."  
  
//Dreams again. What the hell was going on that had his mind working overtime?// 


	4. Helping Hands of a Different Nature

AN: Thanks to all who have so kindly provided feedback; esp. nighthawk - your enthusiasm helps to feed the muse! ( Also, we are now firmly in an AU - as this past week's episode proved that Mac made it back safe and sound...will she in my little world??? Stay tuned to find out!  
  
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Virginia 11:30 EST  
  
Harm finally stood up from his desk. He had worked almost nonstop for the past four hours, the research on his latest case making him nearly oblivious to the passage of time. He hadn't handled anything of this nature before and it had been a task finding relevant precedents, both in military and civilian law.  
  
Harm was representing the wife of one Marine Lieutenant William T. Cowardin, MIA for the past 9 months. A civilian lawyer was representing Lt. Cowardin's mother, Sylvia Cowardin, the plaintiff. Sylvia Cowardin was petitioning the Navy to have her son declared legally dead, while Harm's client, Liliana, hoped to keep her husband's status unchanged--alive, but missing in action.  
  
This case had emotions running high on both sides. Each woman claimed that her motivation for acting was love for the missing officer; and each believed the other was acting out of malice and selfishness.  
  
Since the lieutenant had gone missing in Afghanistan back in February, little evidence had emerged to support proof of his being alive or dead. While it was highly unusual to pronounce a missing person, military or civilian, dead after so short a period of time, Sylvia Cowardin believed such a legal declaration was in the best interests of her daughter-in-law and young grandson. On the other hand, Liliana firmly believed her husband was still alive and saw any ruling to the contrary as condemning her husband to death.  
  
The case was difficult, and in spite of a nagging headache that was the natural result of too little sleep, the extra time at the office allowed the Naval lawyer to accomplish a lot in the way of legal research. With Mac back in town, she might be able to lend a hand in formulating the best strategy to use in court next week . . . .  
  
As Harm stretched, he glanced at the clock on the wall.  
  
// 1130.I could take some leave and just go home and sack out.I'll never get any--I could drive south and surprise Mac at Norfolk! //  
  
No sooner had the thought entered his head then Harm headed out of his office towards Admiral Chegwidden's.  
  
"Tyner," he paused at the petty officer's desk. "Could the Admiral see me for just a moment?"  
  
The young man quickly scanned the phone lines and the appointment calendar on his desk before he replied. "He doesn't appear to be on the phone at the moment, Commander. And he doesn't have any appointments before lunch..let me check for you, Sir."  
  
In less than 10 seconds the efficient petty officer had secured Harm 5 minutes with the Judge Advocate General.  
  
As Harm entered the wood-paneled office of his superior, he took quick notice of the crackling fire in the fireplace. Always a good sign; the Admiral never had the patience to deal with a fire if he was in a bad mood.  
  
"Admiral," he said coming to attention in front of the large desk.  
  
"Commander Rabb," responded the admiral, "what seems to be the emergency today?"  
  
"Emergency? There's no emergency, Sir," Harm answered.  
  
"Well that is a relief," the JAG commented dryly. "Usually when you need to see me at a moment's notice, something of an urgent and bizarre nature seems to be the cause."  
  
"Uh, yes, Sir," smiled the tall lawyer weakly. A few too many memories verified that the admiral had a point.  
  
After a moment of silence, AJ Chegwidden prodded his top attorney. "Is there something I can do for you, Commander?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, Sir, yes, Sir" //Damn! This was not the way to get the afternoon off!// "I'd like to use some leave time and take the rest of the day off, Sir."  
  
Chegwidden stared at the man before him a moment before asking his next question. Rabb looked a little haggard; as a matter of fact, he'd looked that way all week.  
  
"Are you feeling all right, Commander?"  
  
"I'm fine, Sir, I just thought since I'd finished all my research on the Cowardin case, I'd drive down to Norfolk to meet the Seahawk and give Colonel MacKenzie a ride home."  
  
"That's very considerate of you, Rabb. Is Mac expecting you to meet her when the Seahawk docks?" //It is cruel to tease him like this, I suppose, but I can't help it. Anything we can do to help these two get their act together..//  
  
"No, Sir, it would be a surprise," Harm answered, his eyes straight ahead, staring at the picture hanging above his commanding officer's head. "I just thought it would be a nice idea, and a more comfortable ride than that shuttle bus." Was the Admiral teasing him about Mac?!  
  
"I agree, Commander. Drive safely and remind the Colonel to stop by my office first thing Monday morning." Chegwidden spared Rabb one final glance before returning his attention to the reports on his desk, "Drive carefully. Dismissed."  
  
"Aye aye, Sir!"  
  
He made a neat about-face and stopped one more time beside Tyner's desk.  
  
"Tyner, I'm going down to Norfolk to pick up Colonel MacKenzie. If you need me, just call my cell."  
  
"Yes, Sir, Commander. I imagine the Colonel will be glad to be back home," he innocently observed.  
  
"Yes, Petty Officer, I imagine you're right," replied Harm, looking steadily at the younger man.  
  
Tyner continued blithely on, barely noticing the rejoinder, "Ship's chow is never easy to get used to. A home-cooked meal or a nice restaurant is a real special treat after being at sea. Have you ever eaten at Christiana Campbell's Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg, Commander?"  
  
//Is Tyner insane?//  
  
"No, Tyner, I haven't. What's your point?"  
  
"No point, Sir," came the answer, "Just making conversation."  
  
Harm looked at Tyner again. He wasn't frothing at the mouth, so rabies was out..Maybe law school was getting to him, exams looming on the horizon..  
  
"Thank you, Petty Officer, for the recommendation," Harm said. "Have a good weekend, and I'll see you Monday morning."  
  
"You're welcome, Sir. You, too, Sir."  
  
Harm was still shaking his head over his strange encounter when he unlocked his car. //Maybe it's just me. Maybe things seem weird since I haven't been sleeping.//  
  
As he merged onto the Beltway, Harm turned up the radio and let his thoughts wander aimlessly. Dinner with Mac would clear his head and then tonight he might be able to sleep without dreaming.  
  
TBC 


	5. Seas Calm

AN: Thanks for your patience - sorry about the long delay in posting. The middle is always the hardest part! g This is short, but it helps nudge the muse (reviews have been known to do that as well).  
  
  
  
USS Seahawk Atlantic Ocean 8:30 EST, The day of . . .  
  
Mac allowed herself the luxury of an extra minute and thirty seconds in the shower, hoping the extra time spent under the hot shower spray would rinse away the cold feeling that had been hanging on since 0530 that morning.  
  
She hadn't gone back to sleep - the dream's images were too vivid to simply slough them off as a nightmare and sink back into blissful unconsciousness. Instead she reached for the journal under her bunk and tried to record what she had dreamt.  
  
The journal was something relatively new for the Marine lawyer. After she'd had a vision that tied into a murder investigation (NOTE: episode in season 7, "Capital Crime"), Mac realized that her visions could touch people outside her immediate circle. And that realization gave her an additional sense of responsibility. What if she ignored a vision, or didn't try to understand it and people ended up hurt, or worse, dead?  
  
The journal, not a pour-your-heart-out-diary, was something she kept by her bedside now, wherever that bed happened to be. If she had a dream that was unusually vivid, she wrote it down. Then, in the clear light of day, Mac read what she had written during the night, looking to see if there was anything she should watch out for or observe more carefully.  
  
Since she had started the journal, nothing had "happened." No warnings of danger for her friends, no extrasensory insight into a case she was working on. (Unless she counted that dream she'd had of making out with the "time to make the doughnuts" guy from the Dunkin' Donuts commercial and then discovering that someone in the office had brought in two dozen hot Krispy Kremes the next day . . .)  
  
Some might have abandoned the journal as an experiment proven useless, but the practical and methodical lawyer determined otherwise. Besides, wasn't there some law that said the minute you throw something out, you find an urgent use for it . . .?  
  
Coates had already left for the Mess when Mac returned to their room to dress. Before putting on her uniform, she paused to re-read her notes from the night before. Sitting down on the bunk, Colonel Sarah MacKenzie reviewed the scrawled but legible phrases that spilled across the page:  
  
//an exploding cannon . . .a wall of flames blocking her path as she walked down a corridor on the Seahawk . . . a long spiral staircase descending into inky, black nothingness . . . hearing Harm calling her name, over and over again . . . an image of her and Chloe, playing the old game "Battleship" . . . . //  
  
//I have no idea what any of this means; and I'd discount all of it if I hadn't had the exact same dream, three nights running. G-d, Harm and Sturgis will both freak if I bring this up; maybe I'll talk it over with Harriet when I get home.//  
  
Having settled on a course of action, the lawyer and Marine turned to more pressing matters. She had to be dressed, out of the Mess, and back in the small legal office she shared with Coates by 0900.  
  
Since discovering her flawless internal clock, Coates had made it a game to try and beat Mac to the office and declare the JAG officer "late." In the two weeks Mac had been working with the bright petty officer, she hadn't been able to catch the Marine yet. And Mac wasn't about to let the final day aboard ship be the only time she'd lose.  
  
TBC 


	6. No Easy Answers

Route 64 East  
  
Between Richmond and Williamsburg 1:45 EST, The day of . . .  
  
As Harm continued the drive towards Norfolk, his mind kept dragging him back to the images of his dreams over the past three nights.  
  
Not that he hadn't tried thinking of other things, lots of other things: the Cowardin case, Sergei, the issue of Bud's status in the Navy, how to avoid flying with Meredith again in Sarah, coming up with a way to put one over on Sturgis, buying something for his mother at one of the Williamsburg shops, . . .  
  
No matter how he tried to focus on any of these pressing matters, within minutes he was thinking about the dreams again, trying to figure out some kind of meaning.  
  
//Face it, you love a puzzle. Why fight it? Maybe actually thinking about the dreams might at least make them stop feeling so damn urgent.//  
  
Harm took a breath as he reviewed the images that had haunted his sleep:  
  
//a burning fireball of an explosion; smoke, thick and acrid, swirling around him as he lay on a hard floor; a curving, spiral staircase rising up into a blurry, milky brightness; hearing himself calling Mac's name, over and over again; looking at Mac's Little Sister, Chloe, over the top one of those old "Battleship" game sets//  
  
Setting his mind to the task, the JAG lawyer looked for something to give the images cohesion and meaning. Was there a pattern? What linked each image with the other? Did they tell a story? Did they symbolize something else?  
  
Try as he might, Harm couldn't find a logical or reasonable meaning for his dreams.  
  
//This is Mac's territory - she's the one who deals in intuition and bizarre visions! I have no talent for this extrasensory perception crap.//  
  
Mac. . the happy prospect of seeing her again chased away his frustration. He missed his friend and partner. This longer time of separation felt uncomfortably like the time she had been TAD while he was recovering from his rescue at sea.  
  
//This time was different,// he reminded himself. //There would be no awkward period of reacquaintance, no issue of Mic Brumby, no issue of Renee. . .This time he and Mac were picking up the strong bonds of friendship right where they had left them.//  
  
His mood picking up even more, Harm noticed that he had already passed through Williamsburg and was closing in on Norfolk. He remembered Tyner's comment and decided to give Christiana Campbell's Tavern a try. Using his cell phone, he made a reservation for 6 PM - taking into account the odds and ends that had to be taken care of when a ship came into port and the crew disembarked. Dinner at 6 o'clock would mean they would have to leave Norfolk no later that 5; not that that would be a problem for his ever- punctual Marine.  
  
Harm didn't even notice that in his innermost thoughts, Sarah MacKenzie had become "his" Marine. His mind had already jumped ahead to the thought of enjoying the look on her face when she saw him among the crowd that would be waiting for their own loved ones to leave the ship.  
  
Mac wasn't taken unawares easily, not counting the time or two he had sandbagged her in the courtroom. Wincing at the memory of her anger in those moments, he grinned to himself about the more positive surprise he'd give her this afternoon.  
  
Poor Harm! He could never have guessed the horrible event that would surprise them both and change everything between them forever.  
  
TBC  
  
p.s. does anyone notice what I'm trying to do with the dream images? It would help me out if you could leave a note in your review. Thanx! 


	7. Preparing to Depart

USS Seahawk  
  
100 miles off the Virginia coast 2:30 EST, The day of . . .  
  
"Colonel, it's been a pleasure serving with you," Petty Officer Jennifer Coates said with a little sigh, "I just wish it could've been for longer than 2 weeks. I've learned a lot, both from you and Lieutenant Roberts."  
  
Mac turned from the small bag she was packing to the young brunette, her face clear of any expression. "Didn't you leave someone out, Petty Officer?"  
  
The young woman regarded her superior officer with a small frown, "Ma'am?"  
  
With a struggle the Marine colonel kept herself from smiling, "I'm sure you learned a great deal from Lieutenant Singer, too, right?"  
  
Jennifer tried to swallow the lump that immediately formed in her throat. She had meant to sincerely express her appreciation for working under a good lawyer and an even better officer and somehow she had ended up insulting one of the Colonel's colleagues. She hadn't thought the Colonel was especially fond of the prickly and ambitious blond, but there was that whole military protocol thing that Jennifer still had to struggle with from time to time.  
  
"Uh, yes, Ma'am, absolutely, Ma'am," came the embarrassed reply. "It's just that, uh, she was here for so short a period of time. I didn't mean, uh, to ignore--"  
  
Mac continued to hide a grin, "At ease, Petty Officer." It was a little unfair to be teasing Coates like this. "I have no doubt that Lt. Singer had her own lessons to teach; I just wouldn't advise putting any of them into practice."  
  
The young naval officer and the Marine looked at each other solemnly for a moment, and then both burst into laughter.  
  
"I think, Ma'am," Jennifer said, "I would rather follow your example than hers." She watched in surprise as a light flush stained the Colonel's face.  
  
"Thank you, Coates," was the only response Mac gave. Compliments always unnerved her, but she knew the young woman only meant to say something nice. Time to change the subject!  
  
Even though Mac had intended to wait a little longer, now seemed as good a time as any to share her news with Coates.  
  
"Petty Officer, due to the very good work you have done as Legalman on board the Seahawk, I have asked Admiral Chegwidden to consider requesting that you serve at JAG for your next assignment." "JAG, Ma'am?" the naval officer's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"  
  
"Absolutely," Mac assured her. "With Gunny still in Afghanistan, we could really use another officer with a good head on his - or in this case, her - shoulders."  
  
Jennifer stared at the floor before asking her next question. An assignment at JAG would be a wonderful opportunity, but how realistic was such a chance?  
  
"Colonel," she asked softly, "Do you really think the Admiral would want me there? I mean after all that happened that Christmas?"  
  
Mac understood the question as well as the emotion behind it. She had heard from Harm that Jennifer Coates' upbringing had been less than ideal. Here, too, was another woman who was trying to be better than her past told her she had a right to be.  
  
"Jennifer," she said, walking over to the young woman and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, "We can all see how far you've come since that time, the Admiral included. You have nothing to be ashamed of or worried about. I wouldn't recommend you for the posting if I didn't think you could handle it; and as the Admiral's Chief of Staff, he takes my recommendations seriously."  
  
Jennifer raised her eyes to look at Mac directly, "Thank you, Colonel MacKenzie, I won't let you down."  
  
"You better not, Petty Officer, or I'll make sure you spend most of your time supporting Lt. Singer!"  
  
Again, the two laughed together, then turned their attention to finish packing up their belongings. The crew would be assembling shortly up on deck for the momentous sailing into the port at Norfolk. Neither was expecting anyone to be waiting for them, but it was good for the heart and soul to witness the joyful emotions that came with the many reunions of their shipmates. Such reunions never got old and were never the same, no matter how many times those in the Navy experienced them.  
  
This return to port would be remembered by all the crew of the Seahawk, their families, and all of the United States of America forever after.  
  
TBC 


	8. The Homefront

Portside  
  
Norfolk, Virginia 1445 EST, The day of . . .  
  
"Sir? Sir?"  
  
Harm looked down in the direction of the tug on his jacket to see a little red-haired girl with the material of his dress uniform bunched up in her fist.  
  
"What can I do for you, young lady?" he queried with a grin.  
  
"I'm not a lady, I'm a little girl," she said to him. "I'm five-and-a-half years old, so's I can't be a lady yet."  
  
Accepting the correction, the lawyer solemnly replied, "My mistake, you look older than five-and-a-half."  
  
"Don't feel bad," she consoled, "I know I look at least six. Anyways, I wanted to know if I could ask you a favor."  
  
"Don't you think we should introduce ourselves first?" he asked, amused at this matter-of-fact child.  
  
"Oh, yes! My name is Henry."  
  
Harm raised an eyebrow, "Henry?"  
  
"Well, actually it's Henrietta, but nobody calls me that 'cept my Grandmother and my mom when I'm in trouble, and then I get my whole name Henrietta Jane Gallagher."  
  
"Okay, Henry, my name is Harm."  
  
The little girl squinted at him with suspicion in her green eyes. "Harm? What kinda name is Harm?"  
  
He stooped down to her level to answer. "It's short for Harmon, but nobody calls me that either."  
  
"Not even your mom?" incredulously.  
  
Harm winced at the memory of his mother's immediate reaction to the news of Sergei's existence. "Well, I guess my mom does too, whenever I get in trouble."  
  
The precocious child gave a heavy sigh and patted his shoulder in sympathy. "Mothers."  
  
"Mothers," the nearly-40 lawyer agreed. "What was it you wanted to ask me, Henry?"  
  
"Well, I was just hoping that-"  
  
Her answer was cut off by the sound of someone calling her name.  
  
"Henrietta Jane Gallagher! I told you to stay right by my side! You could get lost or hurt among all these people!"  
  
Mom? mouthed Harm silently to his new friend.  
  
She nodded her head and rolled her eyes expressively.  
  
A petite woman, far advanced in pregnancy and pushing a stroller appeared beside the little girl, her flame-colored hair clearly identifying her as Henry's mother. She gave a quick but thorough glance, an expression of relief breaking across her face.  
  
"At least you're not an admiral," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am?" Harm asked confusedly.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Commander," she quickly apologized. "It's just that Henry's last 'new friend' was a three-star admiral. I'm afraid my husband will come back from assignment one day and find he's been busted down to Petty Officer because of his daughter."  
  
She gave a laugh and tugged on her daughter's long red braid, evidence that whatever mischief Henry got herself into, she was well-loved by her parents.  
  
"Please don't worry at all, Mrs. Gallagher. I'm very glad Henry decided she wanted to talk to me. We've already discovered we have something in common, didn't we, Henry?" he said, winking at her.  
  
"That's very kind of you, Commander, you must have-"  
  
"Moooom," interrupted the subject of their discussion, "I need to ask Harm a question!"  
  
"Henrietta," came the maternal warning.  
  
"It's all right, ma'am." Harm quickly reassured her. "What's the favor, Henry?"  
  
"Well, it's about my dad," she answered. "He's coming in on the Seahawk and I can't see over the heads of all these people. And my mom can't lift me up, 'cause she's gonna have a baby," this was said with a slightly scornful tone.  
  
Harm smothered a laugh as she continued.  
  
"But I haven't seen my daddy in a whole 6 months, and I wanna see him the minute he comes off the ship, and if I were really tall-" she paused as she considered him again. "How tall are you, Harm?"  
  
"I'm over 6 feet."  
  
"Oh, goody, perfect!" She continued on, "Anyway, if I were really tall, like nearly as tall as you, he could see me right away 'cause my hair is so bright red, and he could find us right away and I could give him all the hugs I've been saving up for all these weeks!"  
  
Harm tried to swallow the lump that rose up swiftly in his throat. He could remember like it was yesterday what if felt like to wait for your daddy to come home.  
  
"Oh, Henrietta," groaned her mother, already feeling her own face turn red in embarrassment. "Commander, please feel free to just turn and run far away from us.."  
  
Harm turned to smile at her gently. "I can remember how she feels, ma'am." Then turning to Henry, "Do you want me to just hold you up in my arms, or do you want to sit on my shoulders?"  
  
"On your shoulders?!" she squealed with delight. "Could I? Could I? Oh, Mommy, could I, please?"  
  
"Commander, that's not necessary," Maureen Gallagher protested.  
  
"It would be a pleasure," he told her sincerely. "Come on, Henry," he ordered as he reached down to swoop her up and atop his shoulders. "How's the view?"  
  
"It's awesome!" she marveled. "I can see practic'ly everything. It must be great being this tall all the time!"  
  
She nearly toppled him over onto his face as she excitedly pointed towards the dock, "Look the Seahawk's almost here!"  
  
Her voice carried high and clear over the buzz in the crowd and caught everyone's attention, faces turning towards the majestic carrier as it moved the final few hundred yards into port.  
  
And some of the waiting eyes saw the burning streak as it crossed the sky.  
  
And all the waiting eyes saw the fireball erupt in the towering bride of the USS Seahawk.  
  
TBC 


	9. Prayers

A.N. Please accept my deepest apologies for delaying the continuation of my little story. I know how impatient I get when stories I am reading take forever to post - - I am flattered kind readers have been eager to know what happens in my JAG universe. Your encouragement and direct emails got me to carve out some time from a very, very busy "real life" to write some more. Thank you for the kind words!  
  
Obviously, much has happened since I started this.so we are firmly in an AU situation..the time frame is Mac's TAD assignment to the Seahawk, taking Lt. Singer's place..anything that has happened (on TV) since then has not happened..so try to forget that while you read my tale of danger and shippiness!  
  
I am not an authority on the structure of aircraft carriers. All technical errors are mine; please forgive them for the sake of the storyline.  
  
Remember, character's internal thoughts are in // //.  
  
**********  
  
We left Harm in Norfolk, VA, awaiting the SEAHAWK's arrival; he had befriended a little girl, Henry, who was waiting to see her father, also arriving on the SEAHAWK..  
  
. . . "It would be a pleasure," he told her sincerely. "Come on, Henry," he ordered as he reached down to swoop her up and atop his shoulders. "How's the view?"  
  
"It's awesome!" she marveled. "I can see practic'ly everything. It must be great being this tall all the time!"  
  
She nearly toppled him over onto his face as she excitedly pointed towards the dock, "Look the SEAHAWK's almost here!"  
  
Her voice carried high and clear over the buzz in the crowd and caught everyone's attention, faces turning towards the majestic carrier as it moved the final few hundred yards into port.  
  
And some of the waiting eyes saw the burning streak as it crossed the sky.  
  
And all the waiting eyes saw the fireball erupt in the towering bridge of the USS SEAHAWK.  
  
AND NOW, CONTINUING "FIRE IN THE SOUL"  
  
. . .For horrible moment, there was a ghastly, sick silence as those awaiting their husbands, sons, wives, and daughters took in the exploding flames that erupted in the command tower of the SEAHAWK. Then came the screaming and the crying as the meaning of what they were seeing penetrated the crowd's hearts and minds.  
  
"Harm," cried out a small voice, "Harm, what happened? Why is the ship on fire? Where is my daddy? He's okay, isn't he? Harm?"  
  
The JAG lawyer was as shocked as every other person around him, but the pleading voice of the little girl on his shoulders broke through the stunned disbelief that had frozen him into stillness.  
  
He instantly swung the Henry off his shoulders and into his arms in a hug. He set her on the ground before him and looked intently into her panicked eyes.  
  
"Henry, I don't know exactly what happened. Something's gone wrong on the SEAHAWK. I am going to go and try to help. If I see your Daddy, I will send him to you as quickly as I can, okay?"  
  
A quavering voice asked, "You're going to leave us alone?"  
  
She turned to her mother who still stood frozen, watching the flames and smoke billow around now-twisted metal.  
  
"Mommy, tell Harm he should stay with us."  
  
Harm took Henry's hand and placed it in her mother's hand. The contact broke Maureen Gallagher's gaze on the ship and she turned to hug her daughter in a tight embrace.  
  
"Henry," Harm said to her, still at her eye level, "We both have to help people. I am going to help the people on the SEAHAWK and you have to stay here and help your mom and your little brother. Can you do that?"  
  
The five-year-old turned in her mother's arms to face her new friend. "Yes, I can, but do you promise to tell my daddy where we are? He has to come see us right away. He can't stay on the SEAHAWK or he might get hurt."  
  
Harm couldn't tell the little girl that her daddy might already be hurt, that he might even be.//Oh, G-d, please let her father be all right. G-d, please let Mac be all right.// Harm didn't pray much, but it was all he could do at the moment and he meant every word he prayed.  
  
Maureen Gallagher saw the lawyer's expression change and knew he was searching for an answer to give her daughter without lying to her  
  
"Henry, I really need you here with me. All this noise is going to make Chris cranky. Harm will go and help everyone he can on the ship." Then she turned to Harm.  
  
"Go on, Commander. They will need all the help they can get for rescue operations. We'll be okay."  
  
"Ma'am, I-" He couldn't finish his sentence. How could he promise her anything?  
  
"It's all right, Commander. Every person you can help has loved ones waiting here. We'll pray for all of them." She tried to reassure him, "We will do our part here, you go and do yours out there."  
  
Harm couldn't leave her with nothing, "Mrs. Gallagher, I *will* look for your husband. And if I can-"  
  
She cut him off before he made a promise he couldn't keep. "Thank you, Commander. G-d bless you."  
  
The tall lawyer dropped a kiss on Henry's red head, then took off at a run for the unloading zone of the dock area, where it was already clear that fire-fighting and rescue efforts were getting underway. And as he ran, he continued to pray..  
  
USS SEAHAWK Port of Norfolk On deck . . .  
  
The carrier was in chaos. The massive explosion, the fire, the smoke, the falling debris; it had caught everyone unprepared. But within moments, military training took over as every man and woman began to take practical action. They refused to acknowledge the bizarre reality of being attacked at they were pulling into their *home port* and instead, let training take over and they followed the procedures for an attack at sea.  
  
Everyone cooperated to get all personnel to the bow of the carrier, away from the flaming bridge tower. Remarkably, because most of the crew had gathered on deck for the homecoming, gathering and accounting for the majority of personnel was easier than expected. Those who had been in the tower or in the office space beneath it were where the casualties would be.  
  
Petty Officer Coates realized this in an instant as she helped to move coughing, stumbling shipmates forward. Why had Colonel MacKenzie chosen *that* moment to run back to the JAG office? She could be trapped, or injured, or.or.Jen refused to think it. She would move as fast as she could here, so she could then join in with the rescue parties that were forming to look for survivors in and beneath the tower. She would not give up on the Colonel..  
  
USS SEAHAWK Port of Norfolk Somewhere below deck . . .  
  
Had anyone been there to see, a lone figure in a khaki Marine uniform lay unmoving beneath the blown hatch door that effectively pinned her to the floor.  
  
TBC 


	10. Helpless?

USS SEAHAWK  
  
Port of Norfolk 1515 EST  
  
Four gangways linked the SEAHAWK with the dock; the two on the left were being used to offload the crew while the two on the right were being used to bring fire and rescue personnel up to the deck of the wounded carrier. In addition, two fireboats in the harbor were nearly in place to begin spraying the flaming tower with water. Search-and-rescue couldn't wait for the fire to be put out before they began their work, but the quicker it was doused the easier their job would be.  
  
Although he wasn't trained in search-and-rescue, Harm had managed to quickly persuade the fire chief to let him help.  
  
". . . Chief, I know the layout of the SEAHAWK, I've spent time on her. I can answer questions for your men on the spot and you won't have to waste time consulting blueprints."  
  
The fire chief knew the man in front of him made sense. His knowledge could save them precious minutes, and in a rescue operation like this, those minutes could make the difference between life and death for the injured.  
  
"All right, Commander - Rabb, is it? - you can assist, but you play by my rules, got it? I don't need extra victims," Chief Yacobi reminded him.  
  
Harm let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "Whatever you say, Chief. I just want to help."  
  
The twenty-year veteran of the fire service proceeded to give the lawyer quick instructions.  
  
"First, you suit up in rescue gear. Captain Danzig can get you a suit, helmet, and oxygen equipment. Second, you stay with the team I'm assigning you to. No wandering off on your own, no heroics. I meant what I said about no extra victims.  
  
"Finally, Commander Rabb," he deliberately called the Naval officer by name, "When the team leader says to pull out, you listen to him. You may know the SEAHAWK, but we know fire. We know how it behaves and when it's safe or unsafe to stay in any location. If you get the order to leave an area, you leave, with no arguments. You follow my guy's orders same as you would your commanding officer's; you got that?"  
  
The answer the chief received was 100% honest, but he didn't know that it wasn't the answer he wanted.  
  
"Yes sir, Chief. The same as my commanding officer's." And he meant it. He would follow orders, unless he felt he had to do otherwise. . .the maverick lawyer sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that.  
  
Harm followed the chief's directions to where he could suit up and check in with Captain Danzig. A group of men were donning similar gear as he introduced himself to the burly man with salt-and-pepper hair.  
  
"Captain Danzig?" At the curt nod he continued on. "Commander Harmon Rabb. I know the layout of the SEAHAWK; I can help you navigate the passages below deck. Chief Yacobi has authorized me to help, and he told me to report to you."  
  
"Commander, we'll be glad to get your help, on one condition," he looked intently at the man in front of him. "Onboard the SEAHAWK, my word is law. What I say-"  
  
"-goes," the lawyer finished the rescue captain's sentence. "The chief made it clear I follow your orders. I will do what you tell me, sir," his eyes left the captain's to look over at the flames still burning on the SEAHAWK, "I've got friends on board and I want to help."  
  
The captain merely nodded, "Fine. The assistance is appreciated." He turned slightly away from Harm and raised his voice to issue an order.  
  
"Guys, this is Commander Harmon Rabb. He knows the layout of the carrier and he's going to help us find the injured. Kelly, get him some gear."  
  
The knot of men paused to quickly greet the Navy man and then turned their attention back to getting ready to board the SEAHAWK. One of them, short with curly, brown hair and a mustache extended his hand to the newcomer.  
  
"Chet Kelly. I can get you suited up, there's some gear over here . . . ."  
  
With Chet's help, Harm got himself zipped and buckled into a firefighter's protective gear. As he strapped the oxygen tank to his back, he listened to the final instructions coming from the smaller man in front of him.  
  
"The oxygen mask covers your whole face, you'll have to shout pretty loudly to be heard through the mask and whatever noise we'll be working in. And it will probably get pretty loud at times, keep your ears peeled for orders from Cap, and listen for the warning bell that goes off when your oxygen tank starts to get low. The minute that happens, you let me know. Once that alarm sounds, you've only got ten minutes of air left."  
  
Kelly paused in his directions to look over the tall figure, now indistinguishable from the other rescue workers. "You got any questions, Rabb?"  
  
"No, I'm good. Let's get going," was his only reply. With that, the six men turned to walk up the gangway that led to the SEAHAWK.  
  
USS SEAHAWK Exact location unknown  
  
Mac slowly returned to consciousness, a groaning sound catching her attention and helping to bring her around.  
  
// What happened? // she thought dully. It was taking too much effort to simply open her eyes. // Why do I feel like I've been hit by a truck? // She tried to draw a deep breath, but stopped short when a searing pain accompanied that basic effort.  
  
// All right, Marine, stop and think. What do you remember? //  
  
She cast her mind back, checking her internal clock to see how much time had passed since she had left Jen on deck to run back to the office and retrieve the book she had left there. Yet, that automatic and easy task also seemed to be beyond her abilities.  
  
// Okay, if my sense of time is screwed up, I know at least I must've gotten a blow to the head. Great detective work, Marine // she complimented herself sarcastically. // And for your next trick . . . ? //  
  
// All right, open your eyes and see what's around you. That should provide some information, Sherlock. //  
  
She slowly opened her eyes, not moving, but letting her gaze take in all that she could immediately see. It was dark, nothing to see by except for the scattered emergency lights along the corridor. She could see the ceiling above her - she was obviously flat on her back. // Another brilliant deduction! How do you do it? //  
  
Mac let her eyes travel in a downward direction and she saw the hatch lying across her legs, hips and abdomen.  
  
// Well, that explains the hit-by-a-truck feeling // she grimaced. // Still, with a solid steel hatch lying on me, I wonder I don't feel worse. What the hell *happened?* //  
  
The injured woman focused her attention on listening. Were there any sounds that could give her a clue? Straining to hear, Mac could only make out some sounds of grinding metal in the distance.  
  
// Okay, something's seriously gone wrong on the SEAHAWK. It must be big, affecting the whole ship, or I'd hear other people, or people would be coming here to investigate if it was a localized problem. Conclusion, I'm on my own and somehow I've got to get out of here. //  
  
And it was then, when Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie tried to move, that she realized she couldn't. At all. 


	11. Making a Difference

A.N.: Once again, I am so grateful for the kind reviews and the gentle (and not-so-gentle) encouragement to continue on with my poor little story. Truly affirmation and constructive criticism are food for a writer's soul! Tgirl  
  
From the end of Chapter 10 . . . .  
  
* * * USS SEAHAWK  
  
Port of Norfolk, VA  
  
//Okay, something's seriously gone wrong on the SEAHAWK. It must be big, affecting the whole ship, or I'd hear the crew, or people would be coming here to investigate if it was a localized problem. Conclusion, I'm on my own and somehow I've got to get out of here.//  
  
And it was then, when Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie tried to move, that she realized she couldn't. At all. * * *  
  
At first, Mac's mind simply refused to accept the sensory information her body sent it.  
  
//Move, dammit!// it insisted. //Try to find some leverage and get this hatch off!//  
  
Her body did not, and could not, obey. Even the brain of a stubborn Marine had to accept the truth of the situation; at the moment she was paralyzed.  
  
//Stay calm.// she told herself. //Figure out how much movement you do have. Start at your toes and work your way up.//  
  
Systematically, the pinned Marine focused on each part of her body, willing it to move and then waiting for the sensory response to telegraph success or failure.  
  
Toes. Failure.  
  
Feet and ankles. Failure  
  
Calves and knees. Failure.  
  
Thighs. Failure.  
  
Hips. Failure.  
  
Abs. Failure.  
  
Fingers. Fail-Wait! There was some movement! Stiff, but real movement.  
  
The rest of her arms and torso gave the same response; movement, albeit limited. Mac felt as though she were being dragged down by heavy weights or layers of sodden, thick clothes. Still, some movement was better than none . . . She refused to panic. Giving in to fear or any other wasting emotion would serve no purpose. Survival was paramount, and that would only come if she could think with a clear head, unclouded by a fog of fear.  
  
//All right, jarhead,// the determined woman told herself, //learn as much of your condition and your situation as you can.//  
  
With great effort, Mac strained her neck to bring her head up off the floor and let her eyes travel the length of her body. No blood was visible . . . Slowly and clumsily, her left hand moved to sweep the area along her side and the small portion of the floor under her lower back. It encountered a wet spot. She forced herself to bring her hand up and in front of her face and was unable to restrain the disappointed groan that escaped her; blood, red and sticky, was smeared across her palm and fingers.   
  
//Oh crap,// was the only coherent thought she could manage.  
  
USS SEAHAWK  
  
1545 EST  
  
The search-and-rescue team Harm was assisting had not yet ventured into the areas below the burning tower. Captain Danzig was talking with various personnel on the flight deck, trying to get a better idea of how many crew members his men had to be searching for. As few as 10? As many as 50?  
  
Awaiting orders to go in, Harm paced the flight deck, looking for a familiar face. For some unknown reason, the anxious lawyer didn't believe he would see the face of Sarah MacKenzie. In a way he couldn't explain, and frankly didn't even want to try to, he *knew* she was somewhere below deck. Every minute mattered and the Naval lawyer now-turned rescue worker didn't think he could wait one more second before heading into the smoke-filled stairwell leading to where he knew he had to go.  
  
"Commander Rabb? Is that you, sir?"  
  
He turned in the direction of the voice that called his name, and saw the exhausted figure of one Petty Officer Jennifer Coates.   
  
"Jen, are you okay? Where's Colonel MacKenzie?" His eyes took in her appearance all at once, noting the grimy streaks left by smoke and sweat as well as the random blood stains dotting her uniform.  
  
"I'm not hurt, sir," she answered flatly. She watched his eyes scan her and repeated herself. "Really, I'm fine, Commander. None of this is my blood. I've been helping the wounded, and some of them-" she stumbled for the first time, "some of them-are-."  
  
Harm saw the calm desert her eyes, and watched a wild sadness take its place. //Way to go, Rabb,// he cursed himself, //You're supposed to be helping people, not traumatizing them further.//  
  
"I'm glad to hear you're okay, Petty Officer," he said quietly but sincerely. "It's good that you can help get these others the medical attention they need." He paused, and then asked the question burning in his soul, "Do you know where Colonel Mackenzie is?"  
  
His question made it impossible for the enlisted young woman to recover her calm. Instead, her brown eyes filled with tears as she tried to answer the man in front of her. G-d, why did *she* have to be the one to give Commander Rabb this news?!  
  
"I don't know, sir," Jen told him in a broken voice, "We were together, then the Colonel remembered she had left a book in the JAG office and went to get it. She went below deck, and less than a minute later there was the explosion-"  
  
Harm reached out and pulled the now-crying Jen Coates into a hug, holding on as much for his own sake as for hers. He had believed Mac was somewhere below deck, but having his thoughts confirmed . . . the certainty of it chilled him to the bone.  
  
"It's all right, Jen. We'll find her and she'll be fine."  
  
The matter-of-fact tone of his words stopped her quiet sobs abruptly.  
  
"Sir, how do you know? I mean, I want to believe it, but the fire-" she couldn't finish the sentence. How could she say that the Colonel was dead?  
  
Before the senior officer could answer, a shout interrupted their conversation.  
  
"Commander Rabb!" Captain Danzig barked. "Let's go; we're moving out!"  
  
"Where are you going, sir?"  
  
"I'm helping one of the search and rescue teams. I know the SEAHAWK; I can help them search."  
  
"Commander, let me help!" she asked suddenly.  
  
The lawyer shook his head. "Jen," he began, "You should stay up on deck. You're already doing needed work here-"  
  
"Commander, please! I know this carrier as well as you do, better even. Besides, they have enough people to help topside. I need to *do* something . . . I want to help find Colonel MacKenzie. Let me help you!"  
  
The intensity of her plea surprised him, but he knew she couldn't come.  
  
"Petty Officer Coates," he said deliberately, "You are doing work up here that needs to be done. You should keep doing it." He saw her expression change, going from rash hope to defeated sadness. He tried to make her understand, "Jen, you'd need special gear, and oxygen, there isn't time to-"  
  
"Rabb! Did you hear me? It's time to go!"   
  
"Coming, Captain," he hollered. Harm turned back to the woman struggling to compose herself.  
  
"Stay safe up here, Jen," he said quietly, "and say a prayer for Mac."  
  
"I will, sir," she returned, calmer now. "I've learned how to pray again." With that she turned from him and walked towards the clusters of men and women, the injured and those who were helping them.  
  
More calm himself now, Harm turned and ran back to the rescue unit. "I'm ready when you are, Cap. Where do you want to look first?"  
  
"We've got a little bit of luck with us today, Commander," was the oblique reply. Then the captain addressed his next words to the entire team.  
  
"We're the first rescue team to actually go below the deck, to the area beneath the tower. From what I've been able to learn from personnel on ship, it doesn't seem likely that more than a dozen people were below at the time of the explosion. That's good because it means that we won't be trying to bring up a lot of people through the smoke and fire. But it does mean our search has to be thorough; we can't afford to overlook any area where a victim might be." Neil Danzig's attention went back to the newest member of his team.  
  
"And that, Rabb, is where you come in. You know this ship, you have to show us how it's laid out and where we need to look."  
  
"Aye, aye, sir," Harm answered by habit. Then he swallowed before he continued. "I just found out, Cap, that there's another victim down there as well."  
  
TBC 


End file.
